


Plaything

by MTT_Brand



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Crying, Depressing, Depression, Gen, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Sad, Trauma, Underfell Mettaton (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 15:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTT_Brand/pseuds/MTT_Brand
Summary: Underfell Mettaton has a relaxing day in bed.





	Plaything

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vent fic I wrote in like, less than 20 min. Please don't be too harsh to it.

Mettaton laid in bed as he let his mascara stained tear tracks adorn his face for the moment. The silence in the room was suffocating. The only saving grace for Mettaton's sanity was the sound of the air conditioner blowing cool air into the room and Mettaton attempted to focus only on that sound in order to ease himself from the pain his mind was inflicting on him.

 

He never wanted this. He never wanted to be treated like an object throughout his entire life, though he supposed that much was out of his control. Nearly everyone in his life did that to him so he guessed that some part of him was easy to see as sub-monster.

 

He didn't really feel like a monster anyways, not in the species sense of the term. Monsters had a will to live, a sense of survival. Mettaton himself was barely conscious of himself as a person at any given time. Objects weren't supposed to be treated as monsters after all; they weren't people.

 

Mettaton supposed that he was usually taken advantage of for this reason. He was always an object to someone. He was a therapist to some, a paycheck to others, and a sex object to many.

 

No one really loved him, he felt. Not in actuality. They loved the things he did for them.

 

Mettaton would always love those people with his entire heart though. He always loved people deeply and truly even if they had hurt him because those people were all he had and he'd figured that being hurt repeatedly was better than being alone again.

 

But sometimes the hurt was too much to handle. The pain of being nothing more than other people's toys can bear heavy on a monster’s soul as toys can break if they're played with too roughly.

 

Mettaton turned onto his side and curled up so that his knees were positioned up near his chest. Mettaton wiped at his eyes and sighed as his thoughts weighed as heavy as his heart.

 

That's all he was, wasn't he? A toy. He was a plaything to everyone in his life and he was only meant to sing and dance and make money and be the perfect little fucktoy to D-

 

Mettaton’s jaw tightened as he tried not to think about those days. He never wanted to think about them again. Never. They hurt too much to relive.

 

That man was disgusting and he himself was disgusting for ever being with that awful piece of shit.

 

Brows furrowed into a staunchly furious position, Mettaton scrubbed at the stubborn tears that appeared on his cheeks with the end of his sleeve. He didn't care about ruining his shirt anymore. He didn't care about anything anymore.

 

Mettaton slowly got under the covers of his bed and attempted to calm down enough for him to eventually fall asleep.

 

It'd be a long couple hours before Mettaton succumbed to the darkness and let himself be taken over by sleep. At least he'd found peace in respite.


End file.
